Transition
by tilleygirl
Summary: What happens if Marshall gets transferred? How does our favorite duo cope?
1. Lost

**A/N: This was inspired by a comment in an email discussion with BuJyo. So thanks for the idea and BuJyo, this one's for you! And in my world, Eleanor never left.**

**Transition**

**Chapter 1 – Lost...**

Mary Shannon was many things. She was a daughter, a sister, a U.S. Marshal, a friend to at least one person. She was brash, loud, passionate, impatient. She was the polar opposite of PC in both her personal and professional life. Staring forlornly at her reflection in her bathroom mirror she could only think of one word to describe herself at the moment – lost. She was utterly and completely lost.

She bent down and scooped up the cool water running from the faucet and splashed her face. Yes, that was better. Now she couldn't see the tears mixing with the droplets of water. It had been three months, well ninety-two days, but who was counting? Ninety-two days of no playful banter, no thoughtfully filled coffee cups, no lunch companion, no new origami to critique, no competent partner, no relief from the aching loneliness, Ninety-two days of no Marshall. No anchor to keep her from floating adrift. More lost than those people on that island. Marshall was her constant and he was gone. Leaving her unsettled, lonely, sad. Lost.

The transfer order had come as a hard jolt to both of them. Marshall spent two hours closeted with Stan, reviewing options. At the end of the day though, he was a federal employee and he went where Uncle Sam told him to go. Appeals up the chain of command to Allison Pearson fell on deaf ears. An experienced inspector was needed in Oklahoma City. Marshall had no family that would be uprooted by his transfer and someone was needed who wasn't close to retirement.

Marshall had been sent off amid streamers, balloons and the clinking of glasses wishing him well. Mary sat at her desk, her only contribution to the festivities her determination not to become a blubbering idiot. It helped that she was able to scowl at her newly assigned partner, Robert Hillsdale. He was only one step above Charlie on the green scale. Someone thought it would be a good idea for Mary to break him in. The scowl deepened. She would eat him for breakfast.

Their private farewell had been awkward, with promises to call daily along with a savagely extracted pledge from Marshall to Mary not to get shot and die. He had bent down to kiss her cheek and she launched herself into his arms, abandoning her efforts to choke back her emotions, sobbing like a child. She felt his arms tighten around her, heard the murmured utterances men say when they have a crying woman in their embrace, was aware of his hand stroking her hair. When he had finally pulled back, he slid his thumb over the dampness of her cheek, wiping away the tears.

"It won't be forever Sunshine. I promise."

"But by the time you get sprung I'll be in jail because I'll have killed Robert," she muttered, watching a ghost of a smile cross his lips.

"I'll call you when I get there." They had stared at each other, Mary trying to decipher what was smouldering in the depths of his eyes.

Mary sighed and shook her head. These trips down memory lane were useless. Still, everyday she stared at herself in the mirror and wondered what Marshall had seen in her eyes that day. Every unbearable lonely day.

They did talk to each other daily. She called in the morning on her way to work. He called every evening after he got home. She was learning to cope with Robert and grudgingly told Stan she thought he would eventually become a good inspector. Marshall's new partner was approaching retirement and just wanted to peacefully serve out his remaining months so he could hightail it to Florida, where his wife already awaited.

When Mary arrived in the office, she saw Robert sitting at Marshall's desk, writing up a report. She could not bring herself to think of it as Robert's desk. She walked over to her desk, gently touching the origami crane sitting by her coffee cup. Stan stuck his head out of his office and waved her in, wondering if Mary was aware she caressed the fragile artwork every morning. Looking for some kind of physical connection to Marshall.

Mary walked in, coffee cup in hand, inquiring look on her face. Stan was obviously pleased with himself, unable to keep a broad grin off his face. He held a transfer folder in his hand.

"Inspector, we have a new witness coming in. I'll need you to go pick her up. Her name is," he glanced briefly at the file, "Caitlyn O'Meara." There was a pause. "She's in Oklahoma City." Mary stared, then grinned as she grasped Stan's hand, almost spilling her coffee in the process.

"Thank you Stan. Is Marshall on the transfer?" Stan nodded and Mary practically floated out of the office. Refusing to think about the reasons her heart was soaring, Mary pulled out her phone and hit number one on the speed dial.

"Mann's House of Pie." He knew. Mary could tell from his voice. He knew.

"Hey numbnuts, I'll be seeing you later today." She felt an almost irresistible urge to giggle, envisioning the slow smile that she knew was spreading across his face.

"See you then," he said, the deep rumble of his voice sending little shoots of happy through her.

* * *

Marshall had spent ninety-two days away from Mary. He tried to alleviate his loneliness by volunteering, signing up for classes. Swing classes at the Y, English Lit at the community college, drawing at the art institute, serving at a soup kitchen, working with Habitat for Humanity. He knew Mary would laugh at his endeavors, but he had to fill up the off work hours, had to keep his mind focused on something other than her willowy blond figure, her snappy green eyes, her irritated edge that needed constant soothing.

He worried about that edge. Worried about it becoming sharp and painful, prone to leaving splinters. Who was sanding it down, pouring water over it to keep it from heating up? He had seven years of experience with that edge; knew just what grade of sandpaper to use, knew when it needed to be oiled and buffed, knew when it needed a loving hand run gently over it. He applied himself like varnish to that edge, providing a protective barrier between Mary and the world.

Nobody knew his Mary like he did. Nobody knew how to handle her like he did. When she was handled wrong, everybody was unhappy. He smirked, realizing Mary would kick his ass if she recognized that he handled her.

His concern extended to Stan and Eleanor. Mary was probably bringing misery to the entire office. He barely spared an extra thought to Robert. Mary would chew him up and spit him out. Marshall recognized his own position as stabilizer in their office. He balanced Mary's wild swings with his steadiness of temperament.

Marshall received regular updates from Eleanor. He missed the older woman. He missed the snarky exchanges between her and Mary. And Marshall had realized some time ago that Eleanor didn't miss a beat. She was completely aware of his feelings for Mary. He knew she probably knew how Mary felt about him, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to ask her. It would just appear too needy.

Marshall had been almost in shock when he received the transfer order. The look on Mary's face when he came out of Stan's office and told her almost broke his heart. Abandonment. Again. The memory of her sobbing in his arms rose up in him every night and haunted his dreams. The tears had been flowing down his own face as he had driven away. Away from Albuquerque, away from home, away from Mary.

And now she was coming. He leaned against the hood of the SUV, restraining himself from appearing too eager. The jet was taxiing towards the terminal. She would appear soon and he hoped he could keep himself from pulling her into a bear hug and bursting into tears out of sheer joy.

* * *

Mary practically bounced off the Marshal Service jet, eyes scanning the tarmac for the lanky figure that had left such a hole in her life. He was leaning against an SUV, arms crossed, looking relaxed and good enough to eat. She strode over to him, delighting in the huge smile on his face, knowing it was mirrored on hers. Marshall pushed off the hood and dropping his arms down by his side, took a step towards Mary.

Her smile turned to a scowl as another marshal stepped around the vehicle and with a nod to Mary said, "Let's go Mann, they're waiting for us." Marshall's look of disappointment was hard to miss, but Marshal Tilbet stood there, not giving them any privacy. Marshall settled for stretching out his hand and clasping hers briefly.

"Good trip?" She nodded and only reluctantly released his hand, before turning to get in the back of the SUV, as Tilbet was already seated in the passenger front seat. Brief introductions were made before Marshall smoothly pulled out into traffic and headed towards downtown.

"So, what would you like me to expound upon? The history of the Native American culture of the area, how oil and gas exploration has shaped Oklahoma, the impact of the Murrah building bombing?" His eyes met hers in the rear view mirror. Mary heard Tilbet groan, but had an almost orgasmic grin on her face. God she missed this. Not so much the actual knowledge he spewed, but the comfort of the deep tones of his voice, the security that voice had come to convey.

"Dealer's choice," she said in a low voice, watching his face screw up in thought and then listening to him launch into the symbolism of the Oklahoma City Memorial, promising he would take her if there was time.

* * *

Marshall sat on the edge of his desk, watching Mary talking with Caitlyn. Her unique mixture of directness and compassion were on display again and he felt an upswelling of pride as he observed her efficient dealings with the witness. God love her, she could focus a witness better than any other inspector he knew.

Caitlyn had unfortunately run into someone from her old life at a concert she had attended and while the threat assessment was deemed very low, it was decided she should be relocated. She had happily settled into Oklahoma City and was not pleased at the prospect of uprooting her life again. Mary was reigning in Caitlyn's annoying habit of listing all the things she was going to miss, all the people. Listing them repeatedly, over and over. By the second go round, Mary was laying down the law.

Marshall's partner silently walked into the office, his sharp gaze taking in the lanky man's focused attention on the tall blonde. She was a looker. The kid had good taste, he'd give him that. She had to be the partner from Albuquerque, the reason for the slightly sad aura that surrounded Marshall. George had known from the day he met the younger man, that there had to be a woman who was left behind. It was the smiles that never quite touched his eyes that gave him away. Marshal had the haunted look of someone who had a void where his heart should be.

George chuckled as he observed Marshall drinking in Mary, a big grin on his face. Oh yeah, this had to be the woman.

"Hey George," Marshall turned as he heard him laugh. "Come meet my partner." George wondered if Marshall even realized his gaffe.

Waving Mary over, he gestured towards George. "George, meet my partner Mary Shannon. Mary, this is George, my part...oh sorry Big G. I guess Mary is my former partner." George warmly shook Mary's hand. He was a big man with a big heart and affectionate demeanor.

"Seven years of partnership, guess that makes you partners forever. Nice to meet you Mary. I know Marshall is very excited to have you here."

"Nice to be here George. Marshall likes your fair city." Mary cast a sour look at her witness as a fresh wave of tears started. "You know, technically she's not mine until the paperwork is signed over. Why don't you deal with her numbnuts? And where the hell is the paperwork anyway?"


	2. and Found

**Chapter 2 - ...and Found**

Marshall quietly opened his apartment door, setting his badge, wallet and holster down on the kitchen counter. He stilled as he saw Mary asleep on the couch. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was almost midnight. Why hadn't Mary gone to bed? Watching her from his vantage point in the doorway, he felt yet another twinge of regret. He had agreed weeks ago to go to this play with Hope Ellis. He had seriously considered canceling once he found out Mary was coming, but it was hardly fair to Hope to cancel with only a few hours notice.

He cocked his head to the side and studied Mary's countenance. She had responded remarkably well when he told her he had plans for the night and couldn't spend it with her. A quick flash of disappointment, followed by a quick smile and assurances he should enjoy himself.

He crossed the small living room and eased himself down on the couch, reaching out to gently run his hand over her hair. Mary opened her eyes and sleepily smiled up at him.

"Hey, you get lucky?" Her hand searched for his. Marshall chuckled and interlaced their fingers.

"As soon as I walked in the door and saw you were waiting up for me." The low light from the lamp in the corner played on Mary's face. Her eyes crinkled in a smile as she gazed up at him. He had one arm on the back of the sofa and dropping her hand, braced the other on the cushion next to her head, effectively caging her. She had never felt less trapped in her life. The shadows cast from the lamp moved across the familiar lines of his face, emphasizing the sharp planes of his cheeks. Mary's hungry eyes roved his face, lingering on his full lips, the blue eyes that were so intense. Hesitantly brushing her fingertips against his cheek she smiled as his eyes darkened. Lifting her arms to place around his neck, she clung on tight while he straightened up, bringing her willing body with him. His arms wrapped around her in kind.

"I have missed you." Her words were soft, but were an acknowledgment that had no hesitation, no reluctance.

"I know. I've missed you too." He pressed a soft kiss into the curve of her neck. "I've missed you so much. Life is dull without you to keep things interesting."

Mary pulled back and looked Marshal full in the face. "I have never been so pleased to see a paperwork screw up in my life, because it let me stay here tonight with you." A gleam came into her eye. "Even though you chose to spend it catting after some other woman."

Marshall's hurt expression made her instantly contrite. She stroked his jaw, murmuring apologies.

"You know I would have rather been here with you?" Her forehead rested against his as she nodded.

"Of course doofus. I was teasing." His hand was starting a slow rhythm of strokes up and down her bare arm. Eyes turned slate gray bored into her. "This isn't working," she said, willing for the first time in her life to lay herself bare to another human being. Marshall's hand stilled and he looked a question at her.

"Not that silly," she said exasperated, giving a half nod to his hand lightly grasping her elbow. "I mean us being apart. It isn't working. I need you to come back home." There. It was said. 'I need you.'

The slow caressing of her arm started again, his palm imparting warmth, security, desire in that hypnotic movement up and down. A hint of possessiveness too Mary decided, as his fingers brushed feather light against her breast on their journey back and forth from shoulder to elbow.

Possessiveness. She didn't belong to anyone. She was her own person. Regarding the lean form of her best friend, she swallowed with difficulty. She'd sure be willing to loan herself out to this man though. He would return her to herself undamaged and on time. If she said 'let go' he would. He had an innate understanding of her, that sometimes she didn't even have herself.

"No," he whispered, leaning in to drop a kiss on her cheek, "it isn't working." Mary drug her thoughts back to their conversation as he rested his forehead once more against hers. "I think about you all the time." Mary became conscious of the ticking of the kitchen clock, counted her heartbeats with it. "I think about you when I go to sleep. I think about you when I wake up. I think about you all day long at work." Mary's breathing was becoming irregular. "I worry about not being there to have your back. If Robert lets something bad happen to you, I'll kill him." He took a deep breath.

"I think about you because I want to be with you. In every possible meaning of that phrase."

Mary felt a tingle run down her spine at those words. _He wants me! _Her fingers found his chin, applied pressure and lifted up as she pulled back. She traced his lips with her thumb, gazing somewhat longingly at his mouth. He wanted her, all of her, not just her body.

"What will it take for you to come home?" The unspoken addendum 'to me' hung in the air between them. Marshall closed his eyes for a brief moment. He had given this some thought.

"Remember when I told you I have many and varied interests and talents and could easily get another job?" Mary nodded, silently waiting for him to continue. A flash of pain crossed his face, sending a tendril of fear into Mary's belly.

"If I need to, I will leave the Marshal Service and move back to Albuquerque. I can get another law enforcement related job."

Mary made a distressed noise. "But Marshall, you love WitSec. I don't want you to give that up." Her eyes slid away from his and focused on his open shirt collar. His collar bone stood out a little too prominently and Mary wondered if he had lost weight.

"I could be the one to leave, come up here." Her voice trembled slightly. The words left her effortlessly. She realized she would do it too, that to be with Marshall she would leave the service. The realization left her shaky, wondering just what that meant. Her mind skittered away from the truth lurking just under the surface of her thoughts.

"That offer to ride on my coattails stands," he said, covering her hand with his. Marshall eased back against the couch, drawing Mary against his side, his arm lightly around her shoulders.

"I'd offer to take care of you, except you'd hurt me. One of us has to move. One of us probably has to leave the Marshal Service." Some of the light left her face, but she nodded in agreement.

'I know. I've been thinking about this. I've been very unhappy without you Marshall. As much as I love my job, I love you more." Again with the words leaving her mouth without thought. True words though. Well, no going back now.

Marshall's body went very still, his mind stuck in a repeating loop. _I love you more. _Mary cautiously looked into his face, waiting for a response.

"What?" he finally offered. She smiled at the flabbergasted expression.

"I," she said, placing her palm flat on her chest, "love you," she transferred her hand to lay flat on his chest, "more." She fiddled with his buttons, idly wondering how he would respond if she started to undo them. A small knot of uncertainty was curling in her gut as the silence extended.

"Verbal impotence again Marshall," she asked, a hint of amusement in her tone, but also a trace of fear.

Marshall closed one hand over hers, and tried to draw a deep breath.

"You are the only girl who has ever rendered me speechless," he whispered. Leaning over, he sketched the ghost of a kiss on her cheek, brought his lips to her ear and murmured the words. Words she had longed to hear even even as she had feared them. Words that bound him to her. Then he sealed the promise in those words with a kiss, gentle, hesitant, begging for acceptance.

* * *

Marshall was closeted with his boss, clearly laying out his proposal, listing advantages, giving options to deal with disadvantages. George was going to retire in another three months. They would have an opening in the office. Mary was an excellent inspector, just check her service record. Marshall briefly wondered how many write-ups were in her file. They had years of experience together, there would be no break-in period.

U.S. Marshal Matthew Milson crossed his arms and assessed the earnest, newest member of his team. God he hated dealing with personal issues. No matter that this was cloaked as an opportunity to bring in a highly competent inspector. This was a personal issue.

"Have a seat Marshall," he said, gesturing towards a chair. Matthew started pacing, trying to frame his response gently. He stopped in front of Marshall and looked at him directly.

"I'm not blind Marshall. I saw you interacting with your former partner when she was up here last week. And I've had a word with Stan McQueen. He sees a lot more than people give him credit for. I was expecting this appeal from you. Let me make this clear. I can not partner you with someone with whom you have a sexual relationship."

The two men stared at each other, Marshall's mouth gaping open. Finally, he forced his stunned brain to think and responded quietly.

"I'm not sleeping with her. I never have." Angry blue eyes were met by calm brown ones. Matthew adjusted his tie, the gesture reminding Marshall for a moment of that crap weasel Faber. He allowed himself a brief smile. _Yeah, that worked out real well for you Faber, didn't it?_

"I think you left out a word." Matthew's measured tones drew his distracted mind back to the tiny office he was occupying. Marshall groped for the meaning in that sentence and came up blank.

"Yet." Matthew let the word hang out there in the silent space between them. "You haven't slept with her yet. If you even try to tell me you're not hoping to, I will call you on it."

Marshall's agile mind was quickly changing gears and he stood up, towering over Matthew. "I didn't ask for her to be assigned as my partner. Just to be given the open position," he responded, neatly sidestepping Matthew's not so oblique question. "Either Navarro or Wonicki can be assigned to me. Navarro would be better. Mary would get along better with Wonicki. And you know Matthew, that their partnership is hanging by a thread. It's not a good match."

Matthew considered the scenario for a moment. The partnership of the other team under his supervision was not a good one. He knew that. The point was valid.

'Ok," he said nodding. "I'll talk to her." Hesitating, he carefully asked his next question. "If I don't agree to bring Mary on board, what will you do?"

Marshall regarded him warily, then shook his head. "I need to be with her. She makes me happy. I'll quit and move back to Albuquerque if I need to."

Matthew grimly set his lips together in a frown and dismissed Marshall with a gesture, returning to his paperwork with a fresh problem to work out.

* * *

Matthew watched his inspector leaving with the marshal from Albuquerque, noting the light hand on the small of her back, the smile she directed up at him, the general aura of comfortableness that surrounded them. The interview had been a positive one. Matthew had carefully studied Mary's file, read between the lines, spoken extensively to Stan and her former supervisor at the FTF. She was a kickass marshal, was generally considered to be one of the best inspectors in the WitSec program and had what was referred to as 'personality issues'. His mouth quirked in a dour grin. She may even be able to straighten out Nowicki.

She would not put up with his half-hearted approach to his job. And Marshall wouldn't stand for any partner that didn't properly protect the blonde firecracker. Matthew had a feeling that a rod of steel lay buried under the mild, easy-going temperament of the man. He rubbed his forehead, the beginnings of a headache making itself felt. Under other circumstances, he would be glad to have her. It was the nature of her relationship with Marshall that was causing him grief. They may not be sleeping together yet, but they would be shortly if he was any judge. And Matthew considered himself a good judge of people.

The predicament he faced was that if he didn't bring Mary into the office, he would lose Marshall. The geeky walking encyclopedia had already proven himself in the short time he'd been here and Matthew was loathe to lose him. You have to go where your heart leads you though. He sighed. The only reason he was in Oklahoma was because of a girl. No way he would have ever left New York for the depths of the Dust Bowl if a girl wasn't involved. And this girl refused to move away from her family. This girl he went home to every night, whose eyes he saw in the delighted toddler that was waiting at the door for him each evening. He understood and knew the threat to leave wasn't idle.

* * *

Marshall grinned as he watched Mary finishing off the last of the ribs he had grilled. He liked a girl with a healthy appetite and that described his Mary. He was enjoying every moment of the precious two days she got to spend with him. She was licking her fingers as she glanced around his spartan apartment and frowned.

"Where's all your stuff?" He looked at her puzzled. "All your tutti-frutti, geekoid, obscure stuff? You don't have anything out here. No Star Trek, no 3D puzzles, no origami."

Marshall shrugged, cast his eyes around the room, before saying carefully, "I didn't put my house on the market, so I left most of my stuff in Albuquerque. I wasn't sure how temporary this assignment was going to be."

"Temporary? This was not a loan out Marshall, it was a transfer, it..." Her voice petered out as she took in the look on his face. Marshall reached across the small table and took her hand in his.

"I didn't know how long I could be away from you. I didn't know if I would be coming back to Albuquerque, or if perhaps, you would be coming up here. I didn't want to do anything permanent, like sell my house or buy another one until things between us got figured out."

Mary felt a little thrill of pleasure at the warm pressure of his hand engulfing hers. "And have they?" she asked softly, "been figured out?" She shifted her fingers in his hand, becoming conscious of the fact she had BBQ sauce on her fingers. "I'm getting your hand sticky," she murmured.

Marshall very slowly turned her hand over in his and lifting it to his lips, took her index finger and licked the sauce off, taking his time before moving to her next finger. By the time his mobile mouth reached her little finger Mary was vainly trying to remember how to breathe. The sensation of him sucking on her fingers sent twinges straight down to her nether regions. After he had cleared her digits of condiment, he folded her fingers in and observing her stunned face, leaned forward.

"They've been figured out for me," he said in a low rumble.

"Me too," she said faintly, as he reached in for a kiss.

* * *

Marshall guided Mary through the Oklahoma City National Memorial, lightly clasping her hand to his. The warm evening temperature had Mary's shirt clinging to her, something that did not go unnoticed by Marshall. He filed the image away for later contemplation, and pointed out the two large gates at either end of the memorial; the east gate reading 9:01 and the west gate reading 9:03. Both gates framed the time of the blast: 9:02.

The field of empty chairs representing the 168 victims of the explosion, including the 19 small chairs to mark the children who perished, brought a deep sense of sadness to Mary. She ran her hand gently over one of those tiny chairs, feeling tears prick even as anger gathered. _What the hell is wrong with people that someone would do this?_ Attuned as ever to her mood and thoughts, Marshall brought her attention to the Survivor Tree, an American Elm that survived the blast and now stood as a symbol of resilience.

"We're all resilient Mary. We have to be or else we just give up and die." He was silent a long moment. "How resilient are you willing to be? Because we don't know how much time we have," he said gesturing to the chairs behind him. He turned to her, the gurgle of the reflecting pool a soothing background to a moment of truth for the both of them. She gazed up at him, the face she had come to trust, to love, steadily looking back at her.

"You've heard from Matthew." He nodded slowly. A small boy ran by, tried to climb up on one of the little chairs, as his mother frantically tried to pull him down, while holding onto an even smaller girl. A whisper of a smile crossed Marshall's face.

"Matthew will offer you the open position, but we can't be partnered. Not if we're going to be, well, you know, having any sleep-overs." He paused as a thought struck him. Blushing faintly, he asked in a hesitant voice, "We are going to have sleep-overs at some point right?"

Mary was still trying to process the first part of his sentence. "He's going to give me the job?" She grinned. "Awesome. Which loser is he planning on sticking me with?"

"Nowicki. Navarro will be assigned to me." He was fidgeting with his pamphlet he had picked up on the memorial. "Unless...no sleep-overs and then we could be partnered."

Mary looked up, slid a gentle hand up his jaw and pulled his head down for a light kiss. "Oh, I figured I'd just move in with you, so believe me, there will be sleep-overs, sleep-unders, sleep-besides." She trailed small kisses down his jaw and neck, feeling his pulse jump. Marshall's brain flooded with images and he groaned.

"I love being your partner Marshall, but I can be your partner in other ways. I want to be where you are, whatever that takes. And I'll make sure Navarro understands anything bad happens to you, happens to him. I'll make him step up his game."

He spanned her waist with his large palm and pulled her close.

"Are you sure? I can still come back to Albuquerque. I know Stan doesn't want to lose you." A light breeze lifted her hair a moment and he caught a faint scent of shampoo. She was smiling at him as she nodded.

"I've made a decision Marshall. This way we both get to remain marshals. I do not want you to quit. This is what you were born to do. I won't take that from you. I've never felt as lonely as I did those months we were apart. I was lost. I don't want to feel like that again. You are too much a part of me. I need you to be complete. And if being complete means being in Oklahoma City, then so be it." She looked over at the single elm tree that had survived against all odds. The other visitors ebbed and flowed around the tall couple wrapped in each others arms.

"Tell Matthew to call me with the offer. I don't want to spend anymore time apart. We already have ninety-two days of catching up to do." Laughing green eyes gazed up at him and Marshall felt his heart soar.


	3. Leaving Albuquerque

Mary sidled into the office, casting a furtive glance around for Stan. Eleanor glanced up, her look sharpening as she took in Mary's uncharacteristic behavior. Mary was never anything but forthright. And now she seemed...tentative.

"Everything ok Mary?" A measure of concern crept into her voice. For all their clashes, Eleanor liked Mary. She was painfully aware of the feelings between Mary and Marshall, sublimated though they were, and she knew this separation was eating away at both of them.

Mary had just returned from a weekend in Oklahoma City with her former partner. Eleanor was rabid with curiosity to know what had happened. She had been tickled by the excitement in Marshall's voice as he had talked with her the other day about Mary's impending visit. Their last phone conversation had been enlightening. Marshall had let slip more than he was aware.

She had thought Mary would be happy after getting to see Marshall, after taking a dose of the balm Eleanor was quite certain Mary didn't know Marshall applied. This uncertain, uneasy Mary was not what she was expecting though.

"I'm fine, everything's fine," Mary told her, hating the triteness of the words. She _was_ fine, she was better than fine, she just had to have an unpleasant conversation with a man she viewed as a father figure of sorts. A conversation that was going to cause him pain.

Mary looked towards the doors once again, wishing Stan would arrive. She just wanted this over with. Turning her attention back to her computer screen, she tried to concentrate but found her thoughts drifting back to last night's confrontation with Jinx.

Mary had been so happy when so got home last night. So happy. Then she had opened her front door and found Jinx and Brandi on the sofa watching TV. They been full of questions about Marshall and how he was doing. Then she had dropped her bombshell.

Brandi had been somewhat supportive. She knew how close the two of them were and had not been surprised to learn the relationship had shifted from friendship to something more. Not that Mary came right out and admitted that, but Brandi wasn't blind. Her sister had been a sad, growly, unhappy bear since Marshall left and now she was moving to be with him? Mary must have finally opened her eyes.

Jinx, however, could not get past the feeling she was being abandoned. She reasoned, she pleaded, she whined, she accused. When she turned on Marshall, Mary put an end to the discussion, turned her back on her mother and escaped to her room.

Brandi would be ok, she had Peter. He could stabilize her as much as Mary could. It was Jinx that she worried about. Frowning she realized there was a real possibility that Jinx could land on her doorstep in Oklahoma. She would have to discuss it with Marshall. Mary felt reasonably certain that Marshall recognized she was a bit of a package deal. Like it or not, Jinx and Brandi were part of the package.

And now there was the task of telling Stan. She dreaded bringing pain to the man. He had no family of his own besides the Marshal Service, and now both she and Marshall would be gone. It would be a blow to him, she knew that.

Her head swiveled around at the sound of the elevator ding and Stan stepped out, pausing to swipe his badge through the reader and opening the door to the office. Spotting Mary staring at him with big, scared eyes, he sighed and waived her into his office. A forty-five minute phone conversation with Matthew Milson left little doubt in his mind about what was coming.

Stan wouldn't say he cultivated his image as a goober, but neither did he go out of his way to disabuse people of the notion. He had used the misperception to his advantage many times over the years. He knew few of the inspectors under his supervision during his tenure with the service thought he had a clue regarding interpersonal relationships in the office; but he knew.

Stan was very aware of the courtship dance that Marshall had been conducting with Mary for years. He was aware of it while Mary remained oblivious. Marshall had made his bow to her when he pleaded with Stan to offer her a job. Mary made her curtsy when she accepted the offer and moved across the country. The intervening years had been a long slow saunter down the line of the reel that was their partnership. Marshall had stumbled in his steps for a few beats when he learned of Mary's engagement to Raphael. He hadn't known where to put his feet, Mary hadn't known if she should offer a gloved hand in support. But they had reached the end of the set together and circled back to the head of the line, coming together to clasp hands once again.

Mary shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot while Stan ruminated. Finally he sat down, pulled a file from his drawer and looked at her pinched face.

"Stan, I hate to do this, but I'm going to take the open position in Oklahoma City." The words rushed out of her as if trying to escape before Mary had a chance to change her mind. Stan sat back, stretching out his legs under his desk and nodded. He pushed the file over to her.

"Transfer paperwork, filled out and signed. Just need your signature." She looked up quickly after giving a cursory glance at the forms.

"How did you know?" she asked mystified.

"Mary, I spent 45 minutes on the phone with Matthew Milson. Plus, I know how hard it's been for you without Marshall." He tapped the edge of the desk with his pen, until Mary growled. Giving a guilty start, he tossed the pen on his desk and leaned forward.

"I know you want your partner back. Robert's a decent enough marshal but he's not going to work as a long term partner for you. And I know you miss your best friend."

Mary's gaze was focused on the MOU spread open on Stan's desk. "We're not going to be partners," she admitted softly. Stan's eyebrows shot up into his nonexistent hairline and then confusion settled on his face.

"You're moving to Oklahoma City to _not_ be partners?" They must have had one hell of a talk while Mary was up there.

"We're," she groped for the right word, "exploring a change in our relationship. And if we pursue this change, Matthew won't let us be partnered."

"I see," Stan said, watching her keenly, feeling a warmth in his heart. "Well Mary, I hope you'll be very happy. Marshall is a great guy and I know that he is willing to give up his career to come back here. Because he wants to be with you." Her heart cracked just a bit at the sight of Stan's forlorn face.

"You've talked to him," she said flatly.

Stan nodded. "Marshall called me some time back and asked about my contacts in other areas of law enforcement. He was willing to leave the service, to be with you Mary. Were you aware of that?"

I know," she mumbled. "I can't let him do that. It's why I have to leave. Marshall has to be who he is. USMS won't let him transfer back, but they will let me transfer up. So..." She fidgeted with the file folder. "I'm not happy without him Stan. This is the best solution we could work out. I'm sorry Stan, leaving you with Hillsdale, Charlie and a bunch of yahoos from Phoenix."

"Don't worry about me. I'll work things out. But try to be kind to Marshall. He has feelings for you Mary, deep feelings. Don't lose track of that. Let him express those feelings to you."

"I'm trying," she said in a low voice and taking the file headed back to her desk as her phone rang. Stan watched Mary striding through the doors, off to visit a witness. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his change slipping through his fingers and bowed his head, trying to tamp down his swirling emotions. He was losing both of them. His two best inspectors. Two friends. Family. Eleanor stepped in the doorway and looked a question at him. He nodded briefly and she laid a light hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry Stan. I know this is hard. I think even I will miss her."

* * *

Mary groaned as she straightened up after taping shut the final box in the living room and marking it. She glanced around the largely empty room and felt a deep twinge of sadness. Her first home that was really hers, that she bought. And she was leaving it.

Marshall walked in from the kitchen where he had been cleaning out the refrigerator. It had been a long day and both of them were grimy, sweaty and slightly off kilter. Approaching her silently from behind, he studied her slumped shoulders and generally sad aura. Gently wrapping his arms around her, he was gratified to feel her relax her body back against him. He pressed a kiss into her hair.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked, hoping she wasn't going to hold it all in, only to explode on him later. "This is a lot a change that's going on and you hate change." They had decided to put Mary's house on the market and to rent out Marshall's for a year, see how things went in Oklahoma. Intensive weekends of packing and cleaning had them tired and grumpy. Mary let her head loll back on his shoulder and she twisted slightly to catch his eye.

"I love Albuquerque," she whispered. "Albuquerque is where I found myself. It's where I escaped from my childhood, my past. Even if the past eventually came to live with me." They both smiled at that. "Albuquerque cleansed me Marshall. It's where I found you." Marshall's long arms gripped her closer and he closed his eyes. "And Stan, poor Stan." Marshall was silent a long moment.

"Mary, do you want to stay? I can still move back." She slowly shook her head.

"No Marshall, I want to go with you. It's just, I've been happy here. Well, as happy as it's possible for me to be." Marshall's low chuckle vibrated in his chest.

"I've been happy here too Mary. I've spent my entire adult life in Albuquerque. Are you sure about the decision we've made? As long as we can be together, I can deal with anything else."

Mary covered his clasped hands that were resting on her abdomen with her own. She stared at the fireplace, taking in the delicate origami bird displayed on the mantle, felt the steady breathing of the man behind her. "Yes, I'm certain."

Marshall's body relaxed and he bent over to place a kiss on her bare shoulder. She pressed back against Marshall's lean frame. He pressed another kiss to her shoulder, drawing her hair back to expose the long curve of her neck. Trailing kisses down the expanse of creamy flesh, he pushed aside the strap of her tank top, giving him access to an unbroken line of skin. One palm splayed against her belly, working its way under her top. Spreading his fingers, he firmly held her close to him.

"I'm certain too," he breathed in her ear, his long fingers moving up her torso, outlining her ribs, before turning to cup the curve of soft flesh. Mary's tiredness vanished and she drew her breath in sharply as the gentle, exploring fingers woke up every nerve ending in her body. She arched her back, seeking firmer contact with his hand.

Their physical relationship had been a source of frustration to Mary in the beginning. They would see each other every couple of weeks. Marshall had taken a firm stance that he did not want to rush things. They were moving at a snails pace as far as Mary was concerned, but gradually she was coming to see the advantages to his approach. Marshall was a fantastic kisser, given to slow exploration. Mary was rediscovering the make-out session. The opportunity to really explore each other had its upside, to learn what would really heat up the other.

Marshall had found that sweet spot where her neck curved into her shoulder, that spot drove her crazy when he planted a warm moist kiss on it. He discovered she liked the feel of his hand on her ass and was more than happy to give her that. He learned how she liked her kisses, adjusting to give her what she wanted. He confirmed his suspicion that while Mary would be aggressive in the arena of lovemaking she responded to gentleness too.

Mary was learning that it was the little things that Marshall liked. He seemed to be content to just hold her hand, but then would start rubbing his thumb in light soft strokes around her palm, over her fingers, applying pressure in unique ways that had her breath starting to hitch. She had decided it was the promise, the foreshadowing of things to come, that could get her feeling so hot from just holding hands. She found herself starting to respond with little strokes of her own and could see it in his face – this is what he liked. He liked her to touch his face, he liked her to nibble on his ear. And Marshall liked to kiss. She was taken by surprise at his inventiveness, that he could just kiss her for quite a long time without her getting bored. After years of leaping from a few quick kisses to the main event, she was discovering how much pleasure could be had from just locking lips.

They had spent one evening exploring each others scars, large and small, ending with the big ones – the gunshot wounds. The stories were told that lay behind each mark, funny ones from childhood, sadder ones from adulthood, silent ones for the scars the other had witnessed. Light touches on raised ridges, healing brushes of fingertips, warm kisses that relayed acceptance and sorrow to wounded areas.

Marshall was still stopping her anytime her hands started to wander south.

"_I'm a guy. If you touch me like that, I'll lose control." Hands with a grip of steel closed around her wrists, pulling her arms back up._

"_What if I want you to lose control?" Mary's frustration was evident. She just wanted to rip his clothes off and get down to it._

"_When we do this Mary, and make no mistake, we will, I don't want us to be fumbling around. I want to know what will please you. And I want you to know what will please me. I want it to be a memorable experience." He didn't add that he wanted to wipe all memories of other men from her mind. He wanted to be the only man in her thoughts._

_The day was coming, as more and more flesh was exposed to each other, as curious fingers made new discoveries. He was waiting for something from her, she just wasn't sure what it was. _

Mary turned in his arms and drew his head down for a kiss, eager to taste him. Marshall complied, opening his mouth to her, snaking an arm around her, cupping her bottom and drawing her up against him. Mary broke off the kiss in surprise and hope. Marshall laughed and kissed her again.

"Not yet, but I need you to know, _to feel_, what you do to me. It's just that once we cross that line there's no going back and I need you to be absolutely certain."

With an incredulous expression, Mary pushed back from him. "You have the self restraint of a monk Marshall," she griped, leaning back in to steal a quick kiss. "Of course I'm certain."

"What were you and Jinx discussing today out by the pool?" Mary had noticed them sitting almost head to head and had pushed down a sensation of unease. She felt certain of Brandi. Peter had asked her to move in with him and Brandi had accepted. Her sister's acceptance of Marshall's change of status was heartening to Mary and Peter had been nothing but supportive. Jinx however, caused her concern.

Marshall considered a moment, choosing his words with care. "She asked me why I was taking her baby away. I told her I loved you. That I would do anything for you. That I was not making you move. That I offered to move back. I told her she would be welcome in our home anytime." Mary stared at him.

"What did Jinx say?" Mary crossed her arms protectively across her chest. Marshall gently disengaged her arms and drew her into his embrace.

"She wanted to know when we were going to get married." She stared up at him, mouth gaping. He grinned down at her and she shook her head, slowly returning that goofy smile.


	4. Epilogue

Epilogue

Mary walked slowly through the memorial to the bombing victims of the Alfred P. Murrah federal building. Her hand was securely clasped on one side by Marshall, the other side having been freed moments earlier by the small tornado called Jimmy. As the sturdy-legged boy started to climb up on one of the small bronze chairs in the memorial, Mary gave an exasperated grunt.

"James Seth, get down off of there and come back here!" She glared at him as he obediently trotted back and reached up to pat Mary's belly.

"You shouldn't yell Mommy. It's bad for the baby." The small face looked up at her in earnest and Mary turned on Marshall, who gave up trying to hold in his laughter.

"Did you tell him that?" she asked, punching him lightly in the ribs. Marshall put on his best 'Who me?' expression before catching her to him and kissing her soundly.

Mary broke the kiss, pushing him back. "Hey, that's what got us into this situation," she said dryly, drawing his hand down to place where the small baby bump was just beginning to show. Marshall chuckled, caressing her abdomen while keeping an eye on the golden haired boy squatting by the reflecting pool, reaching out to dip his hand into the water.

He moved over to grasp Jimmy by his collar, pulling him back from the water's edge. He saw his own blue eyes looking up at him. "But Daddy, there's money in there," the small boy said anxiously, pointing to the coins lying on the bottom of the pool.

"And it doesn't belong to us. You need to leave it there." Marshall forestalled the next question about who it did belong to by taking the small hand and pointing over to Mary. "Mommy is getting tired. Do you want to go get an ice cream before we go home?"

Jimmy's face broke into a grin and he tugged on Marshall's hand, leading him back to Mary. Jimmy threw his arms around Mary's legs and Mary gently rested her hand on his head. Marshall watched the little scene, one of hundreds he saw everyday, his heart swelling with love and happiness.

Mary looked up and found Marshall's eye as Jimmy started dancing around, chanting 'ice cream, ice cream'. She took his hand and walking over to Marshall, murmured as she passed him, "I hope the next one's a girl."

Marshall's face went slack as he envisioned a miniature Mary to hold in his arms. Someone else he could call 'my girl'.

"That would be fabulous," he whispered as Mary stopped to pin him with a stare. She could envision the infant girl having the big doofus completely wrapped around her tiny finger.

"On second thought, maybe another boy would be best," she drawled, as Jimmy jumped up and down shouting 'Boy, boy, boy!'

Marshall draped an arm over her shoulders, looking around the memorial, thinking about what it had come to mean to them. Every major event of their life here in Oklahoma swirled around this location. Mary's agreement to move to Oklahoma City, Marshall's proposal to her, Marshall learning he was going to be a father. Twice over. Always with the reminder surrounding them that we don't know how long we have; the reminder not to let a single day go to waste.

"As long as it's ours, I don't care." He kissed her and grinned. "I'd like about a hundred of these," he said in a low sultry voice into her ear.

"Then you're having the next ninety-eight buster," Mary said, while reveling in the feel of his palm spread across her belly. Even after five years of marriage, she still thrilled at his touch, felt her spirits lift when she heard his voice on the phone, felt her heart melt as she watched him with their son.

Marshall chuckled and embraced her. "I spoke to Stan today. He's going to be retiring at the end of the year. He wants us to come down for the party." Mary felt the familiar twinge of guilt. She had hated leaving Stan and even Eleanor, to take the transfer. Stan had appeared just a little lost each time she had seen him since. Although, since Eleanor had finally relented and accepted Stan's proposal, he was happier, more anchored.

"Baby will be a couple months old. Should be ok to travel then. What else did Stan have to say?"

"Nowicki has settled in well with Hillsdale. He said the partnership is working out surprisingly well and that you trained both of them to be kickass marshals." Mary smirked. "Their commiseration over having you as a partner has been a bonding experience for them." She laughed out loud at that. Nowicki had transferred to Albuquerque a year previously. Probably as a last ditch effort to escape her with at least one testicle still intact. Mary was currently partnered with another inspector approaching retirement, Matthew taking the approach that it was probably best to keep any given inspector's exposure to Mary to a minimum.

She glanced sideways at her husband. "Brandi and the boys are coming up next weekend. Peter is going to be out of town." Marshall nodded, already mentally calculating the property damage from three active boys under the age of four under one roof for three days.

"What about Jinx?" Mary shook her head. "She has a tap competition she's taking some of her girls to. She does want to come up a few weeks before my due date and stay till the baby is a month or so old." She took Marshall's hand and rubbed her thumb over his palm.

"I know it's a trial, but I'll need the help by then and she is really good with Jimmy. It's like she's discovered how to be a mother in her sixties." Just a hint of resentment was discernable and Marshall wisely let it pass.

"Mmm. You know I love it when you do that," he said, absently mirroring the gentle brushes of her thumb. "I don't mind Jinx . She's always welcome. She knows that. Have you talked with Matthew yet about going on desk duty?"

Shaking her head, Mary suppressed a trickle of irritation. Last time, Matthew had made her start desk duty at eighteen weeks. She was fast coming up on that mark.

"I talked to him today about taking parental leave," Marshall said. "Are you sure you want me to stay home with the baby?" He eyed her apprehensively. She nodded.

"I'm not domestic. You know that Marshall. You're better suited to stay home. I stayed home with Jimmy for three months. Your turn now. And I'll be home for six weeks anyway."

Marshall caught Jimmy as he tried to pull a stuffed animal off of the fence where mementos had been left. Holding the wiggling hand attached to the wiggling arm firmly in his, he turned to see Mary's amused eyes on him.

"You know you'll love it. I swear Marshall, you'd give birth if you could." Marshall's eyebrows rose and he let his gaze drift slowly down her body, delighting in the subtle changes he could see taking place as his child grew within her. Leaning in, he whispered in her ear.

"Oh, I'm perfectly content with the role I play in the whole process. Do you remember the night we conceived this child?" Mary blushed, amazed that he still had the power to bring the color to her cheeks. She knew he made suggestive and off color comments because he took perverse pleasure in making her blush. Few men since she was fifteen years old had that ability, but Marshall... Maybe it was because he knew her so intimately. There wasn't a square millimeter of her body he hadn't explored and claimed as his own. And he knew her mental person as well as he knew her physical one.

That night though, had been amazing and they had both known, felt it in their bones, that they had created a child together. They were both still gasping for breath, slick with sweat and Marshall had rolled off her, placed a sloppy kiss on her abdomen and propped himself up on his forearms, the goofy grin on his face as he looked down at her. "We just made a baby." And then he...

Mary blinked, dragging her thoughts back to the present. "Not likely to forget that. You were quite ...innovative." Marshall chuckled as he drew a finger over the rosy stain in her cheek.

"I always aim to please," he murmured in her ear.

"And you do please Marshall, all the time." He had been right all those years ago, to force her to take things slowly. The things they had learned about each other through slow, gradual exploration served them well in their marriage.

Marshall slung his arm around her, letting loose of Jimmy's hand so he could go over and look at the children's handprint tiles. He knew a request would be forthcoming to make his own handprint tile and Marshall was considering which ceramic shop would be best to visit with an inquisitive, highly articulate three year old.

He turned back, contemplating the rows of gleaming bronze chairs, the tragic symbol of lives cut short.

"We have made every day count, haven't we?" His question didn't surprise Mary. He always turned introspective after a visit to the memorial. Her gaze followed his and she leaned against his shoulder, as his hand slipped down to caress her belly.

"Yes, in the ways that were important. To each other, to Jimmy, to our witnesses. Every day has had meaning." His eyes remained fixed on a far away point.

"Have I told you yet today that I love you?" He turned to look down at the green eyes he hoped to see in the child that was coming.

"Yes," she said grinning, "first thing this morning, just like every morning."

The End

* * *

A/N: Well this is it folks. Thanks for reading and thank you for the great reviews.


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